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by Thea_K



Category: ONE OK ROCK
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Guest appearance by a dear friend - RIP, Half-hearted dancing, M/M, Once again author writes an unplanned one-shot, One Shot, Possibly Unrequited Love, Sweet rituals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-15
Updated: 2020-09-15
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:27:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26478706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thea_K/pseuds/Thea_K
Summary: Toru is hurt when they accidentally hear a harsh comment from their staff. Taka finds a way to cheer him up, and it becomes a ritual of sorts.Or: the author hasn't learned to stop herself from writing unplanned oneshots.
Relationships: Morita Takahiro/Yamashita Toru, Moriuchi Takahiro/Yamashita Toru
Comments: 6
Kudos: 40





	Home

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so sorry I've been busy with uni! 
> 
> I sat down wanting to write something quick, but then came up with this. Fast forward three hours later (three hours I should have been doing an assignment) and this - sigh. Inspired by today's release of Taka's collab with Arnel Pineda. Oh, the lovelorn look on Taka's face when he performs the song! 
> 
> Warning: there's a cameo by Haruma Miura, may he R.I.P. 
> 
> Translations to be put up the end later, when I'm not about to collapse from tiredness.
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and no offence is meant.

It’s after a particularly grueling studio session that Taka first thinks to do it.

There are no splitting hairs about it: the blame for the lengthy day had lay squarely on Toru’s shoulders.

Something was weighing on the guitarist’s mind and it was evident in the frequent mistakes he had made during riffs that should have been as easy as falling asleep.

To make matters worse, a tired and disgruntled sound technician had probably elbowed on the intercom between the studio and the mixing room, and they had all heard it.

 _This is_ why _they haven’t broken the American market yet. The guitarist is mediocre._

Mediocre.

All eyes had fallen on Toru, who had clearly heard the comment. Eyes downcast, he had graciously chosen to keep fiddling with the tuning of his beloved green PRS, as if oblivious to the scandalised looks on the others’ faces.

Taka felt the insult like it was a _tanto_ plunged to his own heart.

An abrupt directive from their producer cut off the incensed retort that would have surely exploded from Ryota’s mouth in the following, tense seconds, and that was that. At the end of the day, they were professionals and this was their job.

After that, Toru had returned to form in a miraculous change from the earlier session, and they had powered through all subsequent takes without a hitch. To the guitarist, the insult was seemingly water off a duck’s back.

But now, in the quiet confines of their apartment block’s mirrored elevator, there’s no escaping Taka’s attention that the guitarist is still clearly upset despite his stoic attempts to act normal. There’s a certain tightness to the other’s jaw and an almost stubborn refusal to meet the vocalist’s eyes when he tries to involve him in light-hearted conversation. It’s like the guitarist’s eyes are superglued to his _keitai_.

Sighing internally, Taka’s eyes worry over the taller man’s face through the door’s reflection, when he’s suddenly reminded of his father’s stern one whenever he would come home from a long day at work.

Back when things were good, all it took was a simple smile and perfunctory greeting from his mother, and the creases on his father’s forehead would smoothen out. All would eagerly attest to this: there was simply no escaping the infectiousness of his mother’s grin.

The elevator dings and a pleasant electronic voice tells them they’ve reached their floor.

Taking a readying breath, Taka puts his faith in all the times he’s heard that he takes after his mother, and jumps through the doors first, then quickly turns around.

At last, Toru’s eyes are ripped from the device in his hand, at the vocalist’s unexpectedly swift exit. His eyebrows are knitted together as he saunters warily out of the elevator. He stops a foot before the waiting vocalist, who smiles almost maniacally. 

Beaming even brighter, Taka looks up into the guitarist’s eyes and he greets: “ _Okaeri._ ”

And the vocalist thanks any god that will listen for his genetics, because, after a beat, Toru’s features finally soften into an amused expression.

With his signature deep rumble, the guitarist responds: “ _Tadaima._ ”

And after shaking his head with disbelief, he affectionately adds: “ _Baka_ ”, before walking off in the direction of his apartment.

*******

It becomes a kind of tradition after that.

Whenever the guitarist has an off day, or something is clearly stewing in his head, Taka makes sure to burst through the elevator doors to greet the other with as much silliness and enthusiasm as he can muster.

It makes him absurdly happy to do so, even more than when their latest singles top the Oricon charts almost immediately after their release.

And, without fail, the gesture lifts Toru’s bad mood and his hesitant smile returns like _komorebi_ after a passing cloud.

Taka has no idea what it looks like to others until, one day, Takeru bears witnesses to it. 

After, Taka watches Toru rounds the corner and out of their eyesight. When he turns back towards his waiting friend, he’s met with a bemused rapid blinking that he brushes off as just another of Takeru’s eccentricities.

“You looked like an emoji, just now,” the actor offers up, unprompted, as they stalk off in the opposite direction towards Taka’s apartment.

“Huh?” Taka asks, with an expression that is ironically close to the idiosyncratic ‘ _Oro_?’ of Takeru’s arguably most famous role.

When the vocalist wheedles the actor again to explain himself, the latter merely shrugs it off.

But, later, after he’s headed off and Taka readies himself for bed, the latter’s _keitai_ chimes with a Line message.

The vocalist picks it up with his free hand while he absentmindedly manoeuvers his electric toothbrush with his other.

Curiously, the message is devoid of any words.

It reads, simply: “😍”.

*******

After much thought, Taka realises that his friend’s not wrong.

Sprawled on his couch, he reads over the transcript of an interview he recently gave for a guitar enthusiast magazine, where he was asked to give his thoughts on their band’s leader. His eyes skim the lines but he starts up to a sitting position when he realises the obvious admiration with which he describes the other’s work ethic is a mere ‘squee!’ away from straight out gushing over the taller man. 

Taka quickly closes the magazine and places it on his coffee table. It doesn’t really help since the guitarist’s handsome face is plastered all over the front cover.

The vocalist scratches imaginary itches on his arms and neck – anywhere really - as he waits for the embarrassment to die down.

In its place, an awareness settles.

Somewhere along the way, Taka acknowledges that his concern for his friend has veered into an undeniably more-than-friendly and definitely-not-brotherly territory. The part of him that hopes the feeling is not one-sided is buoyed by the warmth in the other’s eyes whenever he mutters his response to their ritual and, if Taka’s not wrong, the increasing reluctance of the guitarist to quickly part ways afterwards.

But it is hopeless, though, when he remembers the vehement denial from the guitarist that he would ever ‘bat for the same team’, so to speak. If Toru’s horizons had widened since then, he was certainly discreet about it, if Taka considers all the Bambi-eyed ingenues that have peppered the taller man’s dating history.

A heavy feeling creeps into Taka’s chest. He turns the magazine over.

Long minutes pass, and his limbs become chill with lack of movement. He gathers his knees to his chest.

Silently, he begins to grieve for a love that he believes will never have a chance. He vows to hide it in the shadows of his smiles, never to see the light of day.

*******

Taka thinks he’s doing a pretty good job of concealing his unwanted emotions – really, he should ask Takeru to put in a good word with the casting director for the next Kenshin installment – when Haruma calls him out on it.

It’s Toru’s birthday. At the insistence of their producers, and also as a reward for completing the recording of the latest album, the band and some other guys from the Amuse agency had decided to paint the town to celebrate.

On the dancefloor of an upmarket Roppongi club, Taka dances halfheartedly at the edge of a circle formed around their half-drunk guitarist. Around him, their friends and strangers sing-yell the lyrics to the latest outrageously catchy Mark Ronson-produced hit.

He’s minding his own business, vibing to the music, when arms are suddenly thrown around him and a head is lain on his shoulders. From the familiar scent that encases him, he realises he’s being hugged by none other than the birthday celebrant.

Taka stops dancing.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees a friend filming the exchange on his _keitai_. But all the vocalist can focus on is the deep rumble in his ear.

“It’s my birthday and I get a wish,” Toru declares.

The vocalist pulls back to look at the other, but holds very still when, to his alarm, he realises their faces are mere centimetres apart, since the taller man refuses to let go of his shoulders.

“I wish-“ Toru starts.

But the next words are lost to the roar of the crowd, when the guitarist is unexpectedly pulled away by the others.

A candlelit birthday cake appears out of nowhere and a drunken rendition of ‘Happy Birthday’ starts first with their friends, and then the rest of the club joins in. 

Taka remains rooted to the spot he was in, and watches from the distance as another tradition unfolds: the one where the ‘unsuspecting’ celebrant’s face is abruptly smashed into their cake as they give a speech. This time it’s Tomoya that gets to do the honours.

It's clear that Toru had clearly chosen the wrong time to breathe in, since he erupts in a fit of coughing when he emerges from the mountain of cream and sponge.

Taka chuckles softly, but this quickly dies away when someone, and then everyone, starts to chant: “Birthday kiss! Birthday kiss!”

He never thinks to presume, so when the guitarist looks up and their eyes meet from across the floor, he swears his heart skips a beat.

But before any thought can form in Taka’s head, someone steps in and tugs Toru’s head down for a quick peck on the cheek.

When they step away, Taka sees it is a slip of a girl, with bobbed hair and doe-eyes. The tightfitting outfit she wears emphasises the feminine S of her spine and the gentle swell of her chest.

A cheer and hooting ripples throughout the crowd.

***

Taka still hears the tail end of the hooting, before it is drowned out by the closing of the door of the men’s room.

He only hears the usual murmur of the crowd and the resumption of the DJ’s mix when the door swing opens again.

“Hey.”

Taka turns around, from where he is mindlessly washing his hands although he's not even gone to the toilet.

“Hey,” he replies, plastering a fake smile on his face.

Haruma tilts his head as he considers the vocalist, and eventually the actor sighs. They haven’t talked often recently, but Taka knows Haruma is an exceptionally sensitive and perceptive individual, who has likely picked up his mood and the reason for it.

Taka drops the plastic grin that doesn’t even reach his eyes.

“I’m not in any position to say this, but I think you need to hear it,” his dear friend begins in that gentle tone of his.

“Pretending everything is ok can only get you so far.”

Taka wants to refute the suggestion that he’s pretending, but he sees the sorrowful sincerity in the other’s eyes and a tiredness overtakes the vocalist. He nods instead.

When Taka eventually steps out of the men’s room, he spots their crowd of friends in the far corner but Toru is nowhere to be seen.

Taking out his _keitai_ , the vocalist quickly texts the guitarist a quick message that wishes that the other enjoys the rest of his night, and that he’ll head home first.

Then, Taka slips out of the club undetected, and begins the long walk home to clear his head.

*******

He is still ruing the decision to walk home in pointy-toed brogues but is otherwise thankful for the distraction, when the elevator dings open with the pleasant, automated announcement that he’s reached the floor of his apartment.

Taka walks out, eyes downcast, but looks up when his senses tell him he’s not alone. He stops in his tracks.

Toru, still dressed in skinny jeans and a formal shirt whose sleeves are rolled to the elbows, slowly peels himself from where he’s lent against the wall of the hallway to stand up straight.

“Where were you?” the guitarist asks, a barely concealed accusatory edge to his voice, “I’ve been trying to reach you all night.”

His eyes have a steely glint to them, and Taka immediately realises the taller man might have been worried about his whereabouts.

“I’m sorry if I made you worry, but I just… felt tired, and wanted to go home,” Taka says, feeling guilty.

When the guitarist doesn’t reply, he continues.

“I walked back,” Taka explains, ducking his head.

It dawns on him how ridiculous it is when he says it out loud, since their apartment is more than 10km away from the club. And that it might have been good if he had checked his _keitai_ once in a while on the way back.

He’s about to apologise again when, in a stroke of déjà vu, he finds himself encircled by the guitarist’s arms. As much as he enjoys it, he remembers his earlier resolve.

Taka tries delicately extricate himself from the embrace, in an attempt for self-preservation, but he’s held in place by an iron grip.

“Don’t ever leave without me again,” the deep rumble in his ear pleads.

There’s no warning whatsoever, when the taller man pulls slightly back, before softly pressing his lips against the vocalist’s. 

If Taka wasn’t sure his heart skipped a beat earlier, it certainly does now. And he's unwittingly chosen to right time to breathe in, because the guitarist takes advantage of his parted lips to gently slip a sweet tongue inside.

When they part, Taka dimly registers that his lips taste like strawberries and cream. It's the perfect first kiss he wish he had had. 

He’s still in caught in a daze, looking up to see the other’s eyes are wandering softly over his face, when he hears:

“ _Okaeri_ ”.

And there are a billion things the vocalist wants to say, when he comes to.

But, for now, reaching up and running a fingertip over Toru’s bottom lip, Taka smiles and settles with:

“ _Tadaima._ ”

**Owari.**

**Author's Note:**

> Like it? Let me know! Sorry for the rushed, potato quality. I'll probably revise a word or two when I'm more awake.
> 
> Oh and while you're here, I might as well point you to a recent Toruka AU music video I made: Bloodstream. Watch it here: https://youtu.be/XTnXgtDH3bo
> 
> Hope all you lovely readers are doing well 😘


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